Sweat trickled down Rosy's temples, tickled her neck with spider's feet, until it soaked an already sodden kerchief. Her jacket was clammy, the linen vest underneath stuck to her skin, allowing the coarse fibres of the fabric to prick at her body, as if an army of millipedes were wriggling under her clothes. Above, as the sun soared into the heavens, it scorched the lands left behind in a dusty, sweaty haze, frying animals and people alike, crammed as they were into the circle of standing stones.

The livestock was voicing their protest, lowing, whinnying, crowing and clucking their disgust at the stifling heat, the lack of water and the pressing closeness of far too many bodies. The humans never spoke a word, not even when the airborne predators joined the fray with their whining and buzzing. And their stinging. The swarm of midges and mosquitoes darted with relish from the furry rumps to the soft skin of the limp throng waiting for a deliverance that was taking its own sweet time to arrive.

Rosy's neck itched abominably where one of the invisible fiends had found the exposed part of her neck just above the kerchief. She did not dare to scratch it. Her mission was to call on her skylles but how was she supposed to do that when she felt horrid all over, itching and nauseous with the stink? Next to her, a woman swatted her upper arms and muttered swearwords under her breath. A giggle rose and died in Rosy's throat, granting her only short respite from the torture.

A sudden crackle and pop jolted her upright: the redheads had voided their magic and left it buzzing in the oily airspace between the huge chunks of rocks. A precious gift, a true sacrifice that signalled the beginning of their exodus.

The powers lit up the sacred clay tablets lying in the grass at the feet of each Warden. The opening spell had been triggered. 

Would the midgets pursue them, buzzing along to wherever it was they were heading for, Rosy wondered. She risked a furtive glance at the keepers, gathered in their private huddle a few steps away from the loose circle formed by the White Wardens. While they kept a rigid stance, the Keepers were swaying, their green-clad arms moving, weaving invisible spells into the shimmering air. Their wands danced in perfect synchronicity and drew tiny sparks that blinked in mid air, dropped towards the ground where they winked out into oblivion.

Behind the people and the animals the circle of stones loomed unconcerned. Flooded with the fierce light of mid day, the rugged chunks of rock remained grounded in the place they had occupied for millennia. But they were broken, cracked. Others had disappeared completely, torn from the circle like missing teeth marring a perfect smile. The Druids were long gone, the monument they bequested to their children was but a shadow of its former glory.

How could a damaged temple send a people to safety, Rosy wondered and corrected herself a second later. Half a people.

Just when she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, had to break from this hell, the sound of trumpets, of neighing horses and braying hounds reached her ear, distorted and distant as if coming from the bottom of a lake. Next, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eyes. The redheads were on the run. Skirts were being gathered, men supported their womanfolk as the Red Wardens fled towards the Northern woods without once looking back. From somewhere not far behind them, came the eerie clanking of metal, the thundering of hooves.

The witch hunters had arrived.

But, ever so slowly, the noise of their progress got warped into a deep and booming rumble.

The redheads had no breath to spare for screams, they were running. But amid the sweltering heat of the packed circle icy fingers of fear trailed down Rosy's spine when she realised those fleeing figures were slowing down, their legs labouring as if caught in treacle. Somewhere, at the edge of a vision, she saw a horse galloping into view, a black-clad rider on its back. The hunters were catching up—no they were not, the rider's arms got caught in the same treacle and each move of the animal's legs turned into a monumental struggle.

Only an instant later, the shapes of the witch hunters froze completely while the red wardens tore away from the fringes of the spell; slow yes, but still moving, still racing along. Their open mouths forming a silent "O", they blundered through Rosy's vision, past the silent mass of the White Wardens and away from the stone circle.

Another sharp crack and the drama she was witnessing went black, white and grey as if the life had been sucked out of it.

Yet on her side of the circle, all was normal, faces glowing beetroot red, the skies shining sapphire blue, the earthy colours of the White Warden's clothes matching the dusty pelts of the animals, with only the odd red scarf or deep blue vest showing through. And the green of the Keepers, still in their middle, still weaving their magic and raising a wall between the outside world and the little universe caught among the standing stones.

It was then Rosy realised what had happened. The Keepers had conjured up a protective spell to give the Red Wardens a chance to escape the impending doom. It would break soon, the Keepers had yet to open the gate and needed all their magic. But they had done what they could, and for that Rosy was grateful.

Outside the ring of rocks, the redheads were pulling away, becoming smaller, turning into little ants while the witch hunters stood frozen in their spots. The sounds coming in from the outside world were now so low, they were hard to hear. Was there one ant clawing the other way, coming towards the circle? No, that was impossible, the shimmering heat rising among the stones had to be blurring her vision.

How could she find her family when this was over? How would she get past these dark silhouettes of doom?

An elbow punched her in the ribs and shook her out of her musings. The woman it belonged to panted into her ear. "Move, will you?" Furious red eyes turned her way, seemed to drill into her soul, and Rosy took a step backwards. But all around her, she saw the Whites fanning out, human stopgaps that filled the missing rocks of the circle. Rosy shifted with them, crossed her arms in front of her body as they did, waited, ready to grab the hands on her left and right wondering why nobody had called her forth. A tiny bubble of hope rose inside her. Perhaps, the Keepers had decided they didn't need a sacrifice after all?

Rosy was reaching out to the spindly hand coming towards her, was ready to form the humang ring when she heard the calm voice of Keeper Colin.

"Primrose Coldron. Will you care to join us?"

Rosy jumped, sending her neighbours into a spin and drawing another wrathful look from the woman on her left.

Oh no, no, she wasn't ready for that anymore. Surely, somebody else had come forward. Could she tell them she had changed her mind? As if to answer her unspoken plea, Keeper Colin turned her way, sadness in his eyes accompanied the tiniest shake of his head. Her heart missed a beat. It would all be up to her.

She had never wanted this. But what other choice did she have? Stay here with the other Wardens and hope for the best? That glimmer of hope died with the arrival of the hunters.

Rosy found her feet already moving towards that small group clad in green.

"I'm here," she said and felt foolish.

Head Keeper Pansy regarded her with a surprisingly soft gaze. "Child, do you really want to go ahead?"

No, Rosy thought. What she said was "Yes." She swallowed but found she had no saliva left in her parched throat. The unexpected kindness from the old Keeper made her eyes water—or would have, had there been any moisture to shed. She heaved a shuddering breath and spoke. "My decision hasn't changed. I assume yours hasn't either?"

That was bold, Rosy winced once the words had left her mouth. But it was too late to make unsaid what was already out there.

The Head Keeper only nodded. "Fine then. You honour your obligation. We honour ours. In anticipation of your sacrifice, the redheads have already received a protective shield and been given two of the old scripts. And they have all the magical objects they will need to survive. I understand you want to join them. We will let you go, but only if the sacrifice is enough."

Rosy nodded.

"Keeper Deveril has uttered a wish to join you."

Rosy's head came up and her gaze found the emerald glitter of the old man's eyes until it broke into a myriad of sparks with the tears that had welled from nowhere to blur her vision.

"He can only do this if we are successful," Head Keeper Pansy warned once more.

There still was that.

Please let me have your comments. Or your votes. Or both. XD Wattpad stories are for free, but Wattpad writers thrive on reader feedback. And if you really like this story - maybe you would like to mention this to your friends? Thank you!

===

Well, now it is time for  Two Steps! Archangel - is lovely, because it starts so slow and then it speeds up. The giphy is cheating a bit, this is Stonehenge not the Avebury Circle, but I didn't find any gifs. Well, Stonehenge is so much more popular. Good, let them all go there!  'This chapter is dedicated to one of my oldest Wattpad friends, sallymason1. We started off in the same thread, and she became a Wattpad star! Check out her great new legal crime thriller "Remember".